


Owner Occupier

by connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ghost!Connor, Ghost!Hank, Ghost!Nines, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: After death, some ghosts need a mentor to point them in the right direction and hold their hand for their first haunting. Others are simply let loose in the world, allowed to follow their instinct.





	Owner Occupier

**Author's Note:**

> I have not tagged this as major character death because the deaths of Nines and Connor aren't really touched upon and Hank's is brushed over. But they are dead (how else do we get ghosts?) so if the idea upsets you then please don't read any further!

It was a surprising fact that even ghosts had to have training and mentoring before they were let loose on the world with a list of haunting assignments. Thankfully they didn’t remember much of their previous life and they had to poke and prod quite a lot to uncover their past. All Connor remembered was his name and the vague sense that he’d forgotten someone or something important. But in all the hubbub that followed his appearance at the ghost assignment centre, he didn’t have the time or the energy to investigate further.

The centre was everything Connor wouldn’t expect from a ghostly organisation. He looked around the Zen garden and tried to imagine how he could have got it so wrong. There were no concrete walls, metal rebar showing through, no moaning and groaning masses of freshly dead. Instead, a dark skinned woman greeted him with a smile that never reached her eyes.

“Connor,” she nodded.

“Amanda.”

He frowned a little, unsure how he knew her name. There wasn’t a lot of time to ponder though, he was assigned to a mentor and was waved off back into the physical realm. His mentor was in a bar, sitting on a stool and staring wistfully at the drinks he could no longer have.

“You must be Connor,” he offered gruffly.

“How did you know?”

“Nobody else can see me in this joint and I was given a heads-up you were sent my way. Come on then,” Hank pushed away from the bar and walked out through the wall. He snickered when Connor insisted on using the door.

“You’ve got potential, kid,” he grumbled. “Usually opening and closing doors comes after a lot of practice.”

Despite it seeming like Connor was a natural, he and Hank spent the next few weeks training. Haunting the living, it seemed was a much more involved process than just scaring them. It was kind of fun, Connor learnt that it was much more entertaining to move object from one place to another rather than outright destroy them. Lowering the temperature in a room was one of Hank’s specialties.

“How long have you been at this?” Connor asked one day.

“Longer than you were probably alive.”

There was an air of sadness around Hank and Connor wanted to ask. Before he could open his mouth, Hank held up a hand.

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. And before you ask, take it from someone who was stupid enough not to listen. Don’t dig up your past. Don’t try to find out how you died, who you left behind.”

They continued working on holding a glass of water and putting a brick in it that was a substitute for a mobile phone.

Another week later, Hank let out a sigh.

“Alright kid, I think you’re ready for your first haunting and I have just the place.”

They stopped outside a non-descript bungalow where the tired house number declared it to be 115 on Michigan Drive.

“Why here of all places?” Connor stood on the front lawn and took it all in.

An air of sadness hung around Hank. His hair seemed more lanky and greasy, dangling in strands and Connor reached out to tuck a wayward lock behind Hank’s ear. He didn’t expect Hank to turn to him with tear bright eyes.

“I lived here. Well, lived and died. I like to come back here every now and then for a good haunt, scare the occupiers of the house away because in my heart I still think it belongs to me.”

Connor stayed silent and watched Hank heave in a breath.

“This is why you shouldn’t go looking for your past; you’ll never be able to let it go. This,” he gestured towards the house, “was my home. Our home. I live there with my little boy, Cole. He died and I lost everything. Drank and played Russian Roulette for a few years until I finally lost the game.”

“I take it Cole didn’t linger to haunt anywhere?”

“Different rule for kids,” Hank shrugged. “They don’t have anything to atone for. Or if they do, they’re offered a much quicker route on. You don’t want to follow in my footsteps and get stuck here.”

No knowing what to say, Connor squeezed Hank’s shoulder.

“It is my honour to haunt with you,” he finally settled on.

Hank gave a wet laugh and a sniffle before he glanced at Connor.

“Let’s get this over and done with.”

They melted through the walls and Connor took an interested look around. He almost missed Hank’s whining sigh behind him.

“Aw man, he’s a cat guy!”

Sure enough, there was a luxurious cat tower in the living room, positioned by the window so the cat could have prime view of the great outdoors from the comfort of their home.

“Well, Connor, this is your big moment,” Hank made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Your first haunting.”

“I’m,” Connor broke off and looked around with wide eyes. “I’m actually a little nervous.”

It was difficult for Hank to hold back a soft laugh and he nudged Connor with his shoulder.

“Everyone has to start somewhere. Why don’t you go for something you’ve practiced a lot? Like knocking something off. You know, a classic.”

Connor took a deep breath and walked over to a bookshelf. He seized it up and his eyes alighted on a trophy on the top shelf. On tiptoes, he reached and nudged it. Together with Hank, they watched it land with a clatter.

“Goddamn it Nines!” a voice from the bedroom hollered.

Hank and Connor exchanged a look, Nines was a weird name for a cat but they shrugged it off.

“If that was you knocking something down because you’re in a funk then I swear to go I’m getting an exorcist in again and this time it won’t just be Tina dressed like a priest while mumbling Latin.”

A man emerged from the bedroom in a t-shirt and boxers with a ferocious frown.

“Oh, great, you brought a friend Nines. Tell him to behave, alright? I don’t have time for your shit right now; you know I’m on nights this week.”

Connor turned from the bookshelf and stared at the man, feeling as much horror as was showing on Hank’s face. It was impossible; they weren’t mean to be seen. That was one of the first lessons Hank had drilled into his skull. So it was pointless trying to run into a busy road to get attention, nobody would ever see or feel him. To have that cardinal piece of fact so blatantly broken had Connor’s mind reeling.

“Wait,” the man took a step back, “you’re not Nines. Even though you look similar. You his brother or something?”

He looked around wildly before opening his mouth in a yell again.

“NINES! Get your ghostly butt here this instance!”

A few moments pass and then there’s a shimmer next to the man.

“Couldn’t sleep without me, Gavin?” A figure eerily similar to Connor stood next to the man who appeared to be called Gavin.

“Richard,” the name fell from Connor’s lips and his eyes were wide with hope.

At his name, the other ghost looked up with a frown.

“I feel like I should know you,” he murmured and scrunched his face up for a moment. “Connor.”

The two rushed towards each other the collided in an almost painful hug while Hank and Gavin watched.

“So, what exactly is going on?” Gavin finally asked.

They ended up sitting down at the kitchen table. Gavin was the only one with a drink but he put a few glasses of ice cubes out.

“Nines, sorry, Richard, said that the temperature difference is nice.”

It was true and both Connor and Hank took a moment to enjoy the way pulling their fingers through the glass caused little shivers to pass through them.

“I guess we need some answers,” Gavin broke into the silence.

There weren’t all that many to be found. Gavin shrugged when he said he’d always been able to see what others couldn’t. It was in part what made him such a good detective. Annoyed ghosts had a tendency to want to rat out their killers if they could remember and Gavin helped retrieve them their memories if he could.

The fact that Nines had turned up at his house a few weeks back was pure coincidence. Nines didn’t have any memories of what had happened, he’d passed through the Zen garden much like Connor had but hadn’t been assigned a mentor.

“Yeah, that’s how it goes. Some ghosts instinctively know what to do, others need a little guidance,” Hank chipped in.

“So what’s your role in all this?” Gavin tipped his chin towards Hank.

“I used to live here. With my dog. And son.”

The room went silent and the temperature dropped as Gavin paled.

“You’re Hank?” he finally managed to stutter out.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Holy shit. I joined the DPD 3 months after your death. People mourned you. Then I got promoted, moved house and now I phcking understand why Fowler was so weird about it when I logged my change of address.”

“What about the thing between you and my brother?” Connor asked after a beat.

Suddenly, the surface of the table became fascinating for both Nines and Gavin. Neither of them dared look up and meet anyone’s gaze. The silence stretched on until Hank let out a half amused snort.

“You’ve got to explain how a human-ghost relationship works.”

Gavin mumbled something nobody could understand.

“Pardon?” Hank grinned.

“I said,” Gavin still didn’t look up, “ghosts can possess people.”

The low whistle Hank let out at least tore their gazes from the table.

“That’s some high level shit. Nines, Richard or whatever you are called now, you better be careful because you’re one strong motherfucker by the sounds of it. Even more so than Connor,” he glanced to his side, “no offence, Con.”

“None taken. Richard has always been the better one of us.”

“Now, now,” Hank chided, “don’t put yourself down. You just have different strengths.”

“Look,” Gavin stretched in his seat with a yawn, “not that this isn’t fascinating and all, but I am working nights at the moment so really need some sleep. Stay as long as you want, make yourselves at home but don’t break anything and don’t make a racket please.”

Without another word, he shuffled off to the bedroom and left the three ghosts behind. As soon as the door shut, Hank rounded on Nines.

“Human possession? Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.

“I have only done it with his consent and it has been pleasurable for us both,” Nines shrugged.

“If you’re not careful, it will eat away at your essence. Do you want to become a demon? Or a poltergeist?”

“He doesn’t fight me for control so he doesn’t tear away at my being. I have no wish to harm Gavin.”

Nines’ response was even; he didn’t blink or look away. If anything, he defiantly pulled his shoulders back as though he were proud.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but Gavin and I have a good symbiotic relationship. I would be grateful if you didn’t report us. In turn, I won’t breathe a word to anyone about how you lust after my brother.”

There was a spluttering from Hank and Connor flushed too. Neither quite dared look at each other in the moment and Nines let out a fake surprised gasp.

“Oh dear, I seemed to have jumped the gun on that. My apologies. Well, now that the cat is out of the bag so to speak, please excuse me. I’m going to keep Gavin warm and let you two sort out your issues in private.”

He melted from view but the sound of sleepy snuffles from the bedroom made it apparent he had done exactly as he said.

“So,” Hank rubbed the back of his neck and snuck a quick peek at Connor.

“I don’t think my brother had ever been gifted with social tact, that had always been my strong point,” Connor laughed.

They shuffled their chairs closer together until their shoulders bumped into each other.

“The higher-ups won’t like it if we linger together,” Hank began.

Connor shrugged with a small smile.

“What they don’t know doesn’t hurt. Richard seems to be doing pretty well. And if they don’t like it? What can they do against three pissed off ghosts and their angry human?”

It was Hank’s turn to laugh. He put his hand on the table palm up and delighted in the way Connor’s fingers traced the lines over it before covering it with his hand. In all the years since his death, he’d never felt more at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Bumbling through the chaos that is tumblr as @connorssock and twitter (please someone tell me how to use that thing!) as @vaderina1.


End file.
